


Bare

by hiddenlongings



Series: Sleeping in the Stacks [2]
Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Gen, Pining, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-22
Updated: 2013-09-22
Packaged: 2017-12-27 06:54:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/975785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hiddenlongings/pseuds/hiddenlongings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A sequel to 'Quiet'. After Harold's kidnapping and subsequent rescue John struggles to regain his sense of equilibrium.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bare

Title: Bare

 

Rating: G

 

Story Warnings: More UST, pining, one f-bomb, 

 

Relationships: One sided John Reese/Harold Finch

 

Characters: John Reese, Harold Finch, Bear

 

Summary: This is a sequel to ‘Quiet’. 

 

A/N: I haven’t seen all of Season 2 yet but I just adore Bear.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

John loved Bear. The dogs presence was the only reason that he had managed to leave Finch alone after Root. 

 

Well that and the fact that Harold might have objected (very strongly) to Reese attaching them at the hip.

 

The numbers never stopped coming, but he had used as much of his rare spare time as he could trying to track the woman down. 

 

No dice, she was in the wind. 

 

It took him weeks but finally John could feel that tight terror that had clenched his throat and chest finally loosen its grasp.

 

By the time he finally allowed himself to relax John had dropped weight that he had sorely needed and his eyes were surrounded by dark circles that left his gaunt face a contrast of shadow and gleaming highlights.

 

The latest number had been dropped into the backseat of an idling police cruiser, his hands zip tied and evidence of his attempted murder spattered across his jacket.

 

John stumbled into a nearby shadow, and contemplated his choices.

 

He could go back to his loft, toss and turn on the large bed until morning and probably lose the next physical altercation he threw himself into or he could creep into the library and find the small place that he had carved out for himself.

 

The small corner hidden amongst the stacks usually let him listen to Finch but he hoped the association alone would help him rest.

 

Finch had probably already gone home, taking Bear with him, and he could rest there in safety until morning.

 

As long as he set the alarm on his phone for a little after 4 he should be able to slip back out of the library and return if Harold called for him.

 

He’d get more sleep there, although he was afraid it wouldn’t be as deep or as dream free as it usually was since the library would lack the small sounds that Harold made as he went about his business.

 

It was really no choice at all.

 

It took John a forty-five minute eternity to make his way back to the library, which hulked like a gargoyle on its street corner, all of its lights extinguished. 

 

He trudged up the stairs. His hand wrapped around the banister and his shoulder sliding gently along the wall above it, supporting his weight, John fought to stay on his feet.

 

The small clearing amidst the stacks was waiting for him. As dusty and uncared for as usual, and such a welcome sight John had to bite back a gasp of relief.

 

He hadn’t been able to rest in the small area recently and he had missed the feeling that it gave him.

 

The man might never love him; might never even want him but John knew that Harold was it for him.

 

Jessica had been his first real love. Harold was something else.

 

If Harold had ever shown John the slightest sign that he had wanted him John knew he would have knelt at the older man’s feet and done whatever was asked of him.

 

He didn’t think Harold would or could ever love him, but before he had found out about Grace there had been a small ember of hope that perhaps...but John had felt that spark die.

 

He should have known better a long time ago. Should have kept reminding himself that all that he was good for was protecting the numbers and Harold. Then he had fucked even that up. So really he wasn’t good for much of anything was he?

 

Shaking away his melancholy John put his gun on the shelf between a row of low slung books and the tall shelf.

 

He pulled off the wool coat that had covered his suit, then the suit jacket, hanging up the latter. He unbuttoned his shirt as well leaving him in a white t-shirt and his suit pants. He kicked off shoes and socks and curled up on the cold marble, pulling his coat on top to serve as an impromptu blanket.

 

He had to curl his long limbs in tight so that they were all protected from the bite of the cool air but it took him only a single long inhale and exhale before he dropped into unconsciousness. 

 

His phone lay forgotten inside of the coat pocket.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

The first thing John was aware of was a slippery smooth wet warmth dragging across his face.

 

His eyes flew open and he stared at Bears’ happy panting face in shock.

 

Another lick to his cheek brought John’s hands up to his face as he fought off the affectionate animal. He’d need to think fast. If Finch was here, he’d need to figure out how to…

 

“Good morning, Mr. Reese.”

 

John let his eyes slide shut and he rested his face in Bears’ ruff to hide the hot flush he could feel climbing up his neck.

 

“Mr. Finch.”

 

Pulling himself to his feet, John noticed the bright light that came through the slender windows of the library and cursed himself for a fool.

 

He’d obviously forgotten to set the cellphone alarm.

 

He obviously was a complete moron with no self preservation.

 

John pulled himself to his feet as nonchalantly as he could manage. Snatching his button up shirt and swinging it over his shoulders as quickly as he could.

 

“My apologies, Mr. Finch. I was more tired than I realized.”

 

He had yet to meet his employers eyes, but he could feel the burn of their steady regard as he scrambled to put his clothing back to rights.

 

“There’s a couch.”

 

John pulled his eyes away from his buttons, watching the smaller man warily.

 

“If you felt that strongly about staying in the library Mr. Reese, there’s a couch. It’s fairly comfortable and always available for your use.”

 

“Thank you Mr. Finch. I’ll remember that.”

 

John jerked his coat back on at last and strode towards the door, stumbling to a stop when he realized that Finch wasn’t going to move.

 

“Is there something wrong with your loft?”

 

“Nothing. It’s just...nothing. Do we have another number?”

 

“Not as yet.”

 

“Ah well perhaps I’ll go take advantage of the loft then.”

 

Finch still showed no inclination to move and John broke and ran.

 

Spinning on his heels and taking shameless advantage of his employers handicap he went the long way around the corner of the stacks and hot footed it out of the door and back on to the street.

 

The bite of the concrete made him look down and curse quietly.

 

He’d forgotten his shoes and socks.

 

Thankfully New York was the sort of place where a man wearing an obviously tailored suit striding confidently down the street and completely barefoot in late autumn brought some stares but no comments.

John thanked God for very small favors.


End file.
